


Muse

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Artist AU, F/M, Just Like Everyone Knew I Would, Neighbors AU, Oh Look I Wrote Out the Prompt, i'm so predictable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: muse1. nouna person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.2. verbto gaze thoughtfully at.3. nounan instance or period of reflection.





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a prompt that extasiswings gave me on tumblr because she's an awful enabler and I hate (love) her.

Lucy had resigned herself to a lot of things in life. 

She’d resigned herself to never reconciling with her mother. She’d resigned herself to having to wait for tenure until David (that asshole) had either gotten over his grudge against her or had transferred out of Stanford, whichever came first. She’d resigned herself to the huge likelihood of a life alone with a couple cats.

Nothing against cats of course. She wanted one whether she ever found a partner or not. But despite being bi, which theoretically widened the playing field.... nada. Zip. Zilch. 

The closest thing had been Noah, and she was not mentally revisiting that disaster if she could help it.

One more thing she had resigned herself to: her neighbor hating her.

Garcia, said neighbor, was six feet of Wow. Tall, like a good foot taller than she was tall, with eyes that seemed miles deep and that vaguely dangerous look that she was always into in men and had tried valiantly to pretend she wasn’t, when she’d first seen him Lucy had instantly wondered if maybe porn could be based on real life after all.

Then he’d responded to her, “Hi, I’m Lucy, I just moved in next door,” with a sarcastic, “Fascinating. Do me a favor, try not to emulate your predecessor and have wild parties every Friday.”

Then he’d grabbed his mail and practically stomped off.

Lucy was well aware that she was probably beating a dead horse with wet spaghetti, just to make her actions even more metaphorically useless, but this morning, again, she couldn’t help but try.

It wasn’t just that he was good looking, although hoo boy, he really really was. It was that sometimes when she saw him coming back from his evening jog he had this look of melancholy on his face that made her chest tighten with the need to comfort him. It was that she never saw him have any friends over. It was that on Halloween he always had great candy and crouched down and introduced himself earnestly to each child in character, bowing to the little princes and princesses and expressing fear towards the tiny vampires and zombies.

It was that every Christmas, she saw he was alone.

And dammit, she knew what that was like. She only had Amy left now and on Christmas Eve, Amy didn’t come home until two am because of partying, and she knew, she knew there was a good man in there. She’d seen it.

She just couldn’t figure out why, for the life of her, he refused her attempts at small talk and friendship.

Lucy’s phone beeped as she stared out the window, formulating a new plan of attack. Maybe she could bake him something? She wasn’t a whiz in the kitchen but a good batch of brownies might help...

She glanced down and saw that she had a text from Amy.

_Hey sis need a big favor. I’m sick AF and was gonna model for Prof today. Beginner class so skinny important they can’t handle shading for shit. Can u fill in 4 me?_

The thing was, Lucy had been a nude model. It was how she’d paid for college and her masters after the big fight with Mom that had led to her being cut off financially—and in every other way. She’d been the one who’d gotten Amy into it.

But she was in her 30s now, for crying out loud. And Amy modeled for ‘Prof Flynn’, as Amy called him, at Stanford. Lucy didn’t know the art department but surely she’d get some kind of slap on the wrist if she modeled for students she might possibly have in her classes, right?

...although, playing by the rules hadn’t gotten her anywhere (thanks, David). And Amy took her job seriously. She must be really sick.

And she really didn’t have anything else to do today...

_Okay. Gimme time and directions._

_THANK U LUCE U R A LIFESAVER XXXX_

Right. So. Nude modeling today. Change of pace at least, right?

 

* * *

 

Flynn glared down at his phone.

_Heya Prof. I’m sick w something bad been throwing up all night. But nbd, sending my big sis to sub for me. Same body type as me but you’ll like her boobs better. She taught me everything I know. Also she is brunette. Don’t strain urself rolling ur eyes @ this text. Mwah._

Amy Preston was probably the only person in the world who could get away with telling him he’d like her sister’s boobs and sending him a kiss over text. But she’d managed, through a combination of persistently ignoring his crankiness and teasing him constantly, to worm her way into his affection, becoming like the little sister he’d never had.

She was also a damn good model for his beginning class, hence his annoyance that she couldn’t make it. But she was a professional, and if her sister really had ‘taught her everything she knew’, then Flynn was sure he could manage for one day.

Most people did not look at Flynn and think ‘art professor’. Most of them probably thought ‘former FBI agent’. But art had been Lorena’s greatest love aside from her husband and her child. After she and Iris had died in a boat accident while they were sailing on vacation in Croatia, art had been how he’d connected with her memory. How he’d stayed close to his family and worked through his guilt at being unable to save them.

Stanford, luckily, had also been as far away from his old life as he could get so, it all worked out.

He texted Amy to feel better soon and that it was no problem when he heard a knock at the door to his studio. Must be the sister, class didn’t start for twenty minutes and no student was that early.

“Professor Flynn?”

“Yes, that’s—“ He turned around and froze.

Lucy.

Lucy, his beautiful, whip smart next door neighbor with the smile that had knocked him for six the second he’d met her. Lucy who did dangerous things to his heart and his ability to breathe. Lucy who he’d been avoiding for two years because he suspected she wouldn’t welcome her cranky older recluse of a neighbor kissing the living daylights out of her.

“Garcia,” Lucy choked out. She looked just about as shocked as Flynn felt. “You—Amy—“

“You’re Amy’s older sister.”

“You’re her professor, boss, person.”

They stared at each other. Lucy’s cheeks were pink. Oh, God, how the fuck was he supposed to survive this? He needed a model and had no time to find another one but Lucy—seeing her, all of her, the woman he’d been trying not to fantasize about to the point where he’d avoided her for two years—

“I thought you said you were a history teacher.”

“Professor. Here, actually.” Lucy smiled tentatively. “Small world.”

Small world. It was a miracle they’d never run into each other before. “But you’re here.” 

“Favor to my sister. And it’s like riding a bike. Unless you want to force me to go home and grade essays instead.” She pulled a face that told Flynn exactly what she thought of that idea and Flynn found himself looking at the ground to hide his smile.

“So, how do you want me?”

 _On top of me to start,_ Flynn’s awful brain supplied.

“Ah. You can just. There’s a changing area over there. Amy’s robe is there. You’ll just—I’ll get you into the pose when the time comes, after I finish the usual lecture.”

“What you see in art class stays in art class, don’t ask for the model’s number, be respectful, and all that jazz?”

“Yes.” Flynn wanted to crawl into a hole and die because if he had his way absolutely nobody would be seeing Lucy naked besides him and he would definitely not be wasting time drawing her.

Not that he didn’t want to draw her nude because... because holy shit that was because, but he’d much rather do that after giving her a few orgasms first.

Oh God he was so screwed.

“...right.” Lucy nodded, giving him another tentative smile. “You know if I... if I make you uncomfortable...”

“What?”

Lucy snorted. “Oh come on, Garcia, you’ve made it clear you don’t like me.”

“I don’t... dislike you.”

“Two years of ignoring a girl tends to send a pretty specific message.”

“I’m not very good with people,” Flynn admitted. “My wife, she was the charmer.”

“Your wife?”

“She died. Along with my daughter. It was a long time ago now. She... she loved art. It’s how I ended up. Here.” 

Lucy looked like she wanted to hug him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” He had come to accept the ache, to grow used to it. “Anyway if you...”

“Oh. Right. Yes.” Lucy hurried behind the curtain to change.

“I lost my dad,” Flynn heard her say. “And then I learned he wasn’t really my dad. And that Amy was only my half-sister. I ended up breaking off with my mom because of it. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I know it’s not the same but... but it was loss, y’know?”

“I know.” Flynn wasn’t sure how to feel. Or rather, he didn’t know which of the many things he was feeling to focus on. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

“Only fair. And I’ve heard lots of good things about you from Amy. I trust you.”

Lucy emerged, wearing the burgundy robe that Amy always used. Except that Amy never made Flynn want to cross the room and rip the robe off and get his mouth on those curves.

“Ready?” Lucy asked.

As he would ever be.

 

* * *

 

Lucy accepted the hand Flynn offered her as he led her to the couch in the center of the room. So maybe he didn’t hate her and he was just an awkward, grieving man who didn’t know how to deal with a friendly neighbor. Fair enough.

It really shouldn’t have been giving her hope the way it did.

Students filed in and Lucy relaxed as Flynn explained the techniques they would be exploring and laid the ground rules for professional conduct with their model. She’d heard it all a million times so she kind of tuned it out until...

“Now, some of you may have noticed that our model today is Professor Preston, from the history department. Normally this would be a bit frowned upon but I was in a bind and she was generous enough to volunteer to fill in for my usual model. Should any of you be in her class after this and I hear about inappropriate behavior or gossiping, I will immediately fail you in this class or any other you take from me. Miss Preston is, like all our models, to be treated with respect. Understood?”

The class, properly cowed by Flynn’s frankly terrifying tone of voice, nodded.

Lucy could have kissed him. Not that she needed defending but the fact that it had even occurred to him, without her mentioning it, that this might carry over to her other job... it was sweet, in Flynn’s faux pas type of way.

With everyone setting up around her, Flynn walked over to her. “Is it all right if I touch you?”

It was a standard question but he said it in such a low voice that it felt like more. It felt intimate. Lucy nodded, her throat dry.

“Shall I...” she indicated her robe.

Flynn looked for a second like he was choking. “Yes, please.”

She undid the tie and dropped the robe, setting it aside. Flynn studied her for a moment, probably just figuring out exactly how he wanted her to pose but his gaze was hot and lingering and she could feel her breath getting shallow.

“I’ll just... lie like this?” Flynn’s hand gently took her elbow and he guided her down, moving her arm above her head. Lucy went obediently, hardly daring to breathe. Flynn’s hand shifted to her hip, pressing lightly so that she twisted it in the direction he needed, while his other hand took her wrist and shifted her arm a bit.

She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about what this felt like. How easily his touch could turn firm, pinning her wrist and hips. How he was clothed and she was naked, the contrast, the way he hovered over her, almost but not quite between her legs.

Oh, God, she wanted him so badly she ached.

Flynn stared down at her, and for a long moment neither of them moved. His lips were a little parted, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what, but then he blinked and looked away.

“And, ah, if you could just get your knee like this.” He guided her leg up into the position he wanted, then let go like her skin burned him. He licked his lips, staring fixedly at a point that was Definitely Not Her, and Lucy kind of wanted to strangle him because she didn’t know how she was supposed to get through an hour or more or this while actively wanting to climb him like a tree.

The session was the hardest she’d ever had. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t check out, couldn’t concentrate. Flynn was addressing the class in that deep, rolling voice of his, and every so often his gaze would land on her as he’d instruct a student and she would burn from the intensity she saw in his eyes. 

Never had she been so glad for a session to be over, even as she yearned for a session that was just the two of them, where she could let herself show how much she wanted him, let her skin flush and her thighs become slick, as that dark gaze trailed over her like a touch.

Flynn dismissed the class and answered some questions as Lucy stretched her sore limbs and put the robe back on, checking her phone while she waited to see if there was anything else Flynn needed from her.

There was a text from Amy, sent about half an hour ago.

_So has he offered to draw u like 1 of his French girls yet? Told u he liked u._

And two things hit her.

First: Amy had heard her complaining about her neighbor Garcia and had figured out he was also Flynn, and

Second: that judging by how Flynn had been looking at her all through the session, she had terribly misjudged him in thinking he hated her.

Lucy set the phone aside and watched as Flynn escorted the last student out the door.

Like hell she was letting either of them leave this room without doing something about the tension she’d been suffering through for hours—or the crush she’d been suffering through for two years.

Amy had once told her that Garcia probably liked her and that she had to be more obvious about her interest in him.

Well, she was about to get as obvious as she could possibly be.

 

* * *

 

Flynn had been in hell all of class.

Lucy was right—right there, gorgeous and completely untouchable, her soft gaze following him around the room. He’d been so tempted to end class and walk over and work a trail down her body with his mouth, see how flushed he could make that pale skin.

He’d also been tempted to just run away and possibly also move to Alaska. Or Siberia.

He determinedly answered the questions of his students afterward, keeping his back to Lucy and giving her time to change. She must know how he felt, had to have seen how he’d looked at her this whole class. She’d want to get out of there as fast as possible, away from his unwanted gaze. He just hoped she wouldn’t hate him too much.

But when he turned back, Lucy was still in nothing but her bathrobe. “Don’t you want to change?”

Lucy shrugged. “I thought you might want a turn drawing me. Since you did such a good job of pretending to not stare at me all through class.”

Well. He was screwed.

“I...”

“I mean, if you wanted a private session all this time...” Oh, that look from underneath her lashes was deliberate. She had definitely figured him out. “All you had to do was ask.”

Then she stood up and undid the robe, letting it fall away.

Flynn choked on his own spit. He’d had to deal with seeing her naked all day, taking in those curves, the softness of her skin, but now with nobody else around and the door locked it felt ten times more intimate. There was a distinct difference in the way Lucy held herself, like some kind of detached air had fallen away, revealing something underneath that was simultaneously softer and sharper.

Lucy leaned back onto the couch, sliding her hands over her curves, looking like she was enjoying feeling her body as much as she was enjoying watching Flynn’s face. “I’ve got all sorts of ideas for poses,” she said, one hand playing with her breast, and ohhh fuck all of his blood rushed south so fast he nearly got vertigo.

“I’m sure there are quite a lot of interesting ways you could sketch me, ways that you can’t show the students.” Lucy’s other hand got down between her legs and for a split second Flynn could very well imagine sketching her like that, capturing the way she bit her bottom lip and arched her body and how a flush spread over her chest—it would be beautiful, it was beautiful, she was beautiful—

“…or you could get a little more hands on.” Lucy slid a finger into herself, her breath visibly stuttering in her chest. “And worry about sketching me later. I like a little audience participation.”

Flynn liked to think he was the kind of person who was good at ignoring things and compartmentalizing. He’d had to be, after losing his family.

But he wasn’t made of fucking stone. And he dared anybody to resist Lucy—in general but especially like this.

He strode over and Lucy pulled her hand away, looking beyond pleased with herself. She reached for him, yanking him down to her and kissing him like they’d been lovers for weeks instead of for the first time today, licking right in and sealing their lips together, claiming and confident.

“All this time I thought you didn’t like me,” she managed to gasp out. “Turns out you’re just hopeless.”

He could live with hopeless. He’d live with a lot worse if it meant she didn’t stop kissing him.

Lucy made a desperate mewling noise like an unhappy cat and yanked at his clothes, trying to get them off but refusing to stop kissing him. Flynn obliged her in getting shirtless but pulled away after that. He had to get his mouth on her.

The pleased sigh that escaped Lucy as he kissed slowly down her neck made some creature inside his chest growl in pride. She was wonderfully responsive as he slid his mouth down her body, tasting her, seeing what he could do to her with his teeth and tongue.

The former, actually, were especially welcomed, and Flynn filed that thought away for later: Lucy liked it a little rough.

Then he got between her legs, to where she was slick and shining, and the sound Lucy made—surprised and gasping—was one he wanted to hear over and over again for the rest of his life.

He bit softly at the inside of her thigh, practically purring as her hand slid into his hair. He avoided her clit, licking up to her folds and then twisting his tongue into her, making her shake and let out tiny noises from the back of her throat.

“Garcia...” His name fell from her lips easily, like she’d been saying it or wanting to say it for ages. “Please?”

He wanted to tell her that anything she ever wanted, all she had to do was ask and he’d find a way to give it to her. He finally began to lap at her clit, while sliding a finger into her.

Lucy’s hold on his hair tightened and her hips arched upward into his mouth. “I... Garcia I—“

He kept at it, adding a second finger and then sealing his mouth over her, sucking. Lucy came with a shudder and a choked cry, her hand shaking in his hair.

Flynn kissed her inner thigh, massaging her legs, letting her catch her breath.

“Get up here,” Lucy ordered. Her eyes were glittering, her face beautifully flushed, and he could spend a thousand lifetimes painting her and nothing would capture her sheer beauty in that moment.

Her hands slid down his chest, helping him out of his pants. “And all this time I thought you didn’t like me,” she breathed into his mouth. 

Flynn couldn’t exactly blame her for thinking that. He kissed her slowly, deeply, then kissed softly along her jaw and neck, hoping she could feel how much he wanted her, how much he had always wanted her even as he’d thought she wouldn’t ever want someone like him. “Never.”

Lucy took his face in her hands and pulled him up, forcing him to look into her eyes. She didn’t say anything, just stared up at him, and yet somehow he felt his chest going tight anyway. She kissed him once, softly.

Flynn knew they should talk more about this, that he should tell her about how he’d just been terrified of her and cranky and fumbling and he really hadn’t meant—but Lucy seemed determined to talk about all of that later.

Much later.

He let her shift them on the couch so that she was in his lap, her breath stuttering as she sank down onto him. Flynn felt his eyes practically rolling back into his head. He hadn’t done this since Lorena had died and it was Lucy, the woman he’d been daydreaming about for two years, and she was looking at him with a wicked gleam like she was never letting him go.

He was okay with that.

The couch wasn’t entirely comfortable for this but hell, what were some backaches when it allowed him to see Lucy above him, rolling her hips and taking him all the way inside of her, and when she could bend over and let him kiss her as much as he liked. He listened to her moans and whispered instructions, grinning savagely when he got the angle just perfect and she cried out, clawing at him.

He didn’t hold back after that and Lucy didn’t want him to, urging him onward, kissing every part of him that she could reach but always letting him tug on her hair so that he could kiss her mouth. This angle, this position, seemed to be a favorite of hers, and he was more than happy to let her ride him, use him, until she shuddered and bit his lip as she came.

Flynn shoved up into her and came hard, almost surprised that he’d lasted that long when she was so tight and hot around him, perfect on top of him, in his arms, as Lucy let out a pleased little mew and shook again like an aftershock.

“Oh fuck,” Lucy murmured, kissing him lazily, messily. “We’re doing that again. Several times. On a bed.”

“Whatever you want,” he promised.

“Do you have another class?”

“No, this is my only one today.”

“Good.” Lucy snuggled into his arms. “Then nap.”

Flynn shifted them. The couch was on the larger side, making it just large enough for him to lie on it with Lucy on his chest. She curled up happily, like a cat, and fell asleep almost at once. Flynn stroked through her hair, staring at her until he dozed as well.

 

* * *

 

Lucy stirred, swimming out of sleep lazily, slowly, blinking her eyes open. She was lying between Flynn’s legs, her head in his lap, a blanket thrown over them. There was a strange sort of scratching noise near her ear. It wasn’t unpleasant, and it sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

She looked up.

Flynn had his sketchbook open and was sketching silently, his long fingers smeared with charcoal and his tongue between his lips.

“What are you drawing?” she asked, her voice scratchy from sleep.

Flynn started, his face flushing like he’d been caught at something. Lucy sat up. “Are you drawing me?”

“Just your face.” Flynn handed her the sketchbook.

Lucy turned it around. It was her face, asleep, her hair spilling out over Flynn’s thigh.

“It’s a bit rough.”

He’d captured her so well, though. The angles of her cheekbones, the sweep of her eyelashes.

Lucy flipped the page up, tilting her head to see it from another angle, and caught sight of a drawing on the previous page. That was of her, too, her face as she ducked and smiled. “Been busy,” she said, smiling. “Did you draw this one from memory?”

“Ah…”

She turned back another page. That was her as well, when her mouth was twisted up in annoyance. She had no doubt she’d made that face a lot at Flynn.

But then she turned back another page, and that wasn’t her face. That was full body, in her Stanford sweatshirt and sweats, standing in front of the mailbox.

She stared. If Flynn had sketched her where she could see him, she would’ve noticed. So that meant…

“I drew that from memory,” Flynn admitted. His voice sounded tight and embarrassed. “I drew… most of these from memory.”

He took the sketchbook from her, flipping through to show her that almost all of it… was her.

Lucy’s throat felt tight with an emotion she didn’t dare name, one that made her chest heat up and swell. “You never asked.”

“I… I don’t think I knew how.”

Lucy turned, tucking her head underneath his chin and resting it on his chest. “Well, now you can sketch me as much as you’d like. The answer’s yes. The answer is yes to a lot of things.”

Flynn’s arms went around her. “Like… can I take you to dinner?”

Lucy smiled, pressing her lips to his warm skin. “Yes.”

Flynn pressed his mouth to her hair, which meant she could feel his smile.


End file.
